moved to the valley, and this location fell into disuse. It was during the reign of Pious King Justyn that the compound was transformed into a religious site and construction of the Pilgrimage Road began. The project had taken most of King Justyn’s reign to complete, but the resulting trade and tourism helped Pyra’s economy flourish and encouraged travel throughout the mountain region. When Avalkyra Ashfire moved to have Pyra separate from the empire, all that commerce was lost, and Pyra hadn’t recovered since. All the inns and cookhouses that had serviced the pilgrims had closed down, and religious sites like the Eyrie were left untended and abandoned, with no funding or leaders remaining to see it restored.
Until now, apparently.
High as Azurec’s Eyrie was, Pyrmont’s upper reaches loomed farther in the distance, rising steeply to disappear into the night sky. No road cut a path through that wilderness. Those that had dwelt there rode phoenixes and had no need for such conveyances.
Veronyka’s escorts led her past the way station and straight for the staircase, pausing just long enough to adjust their packs before starting the climb. She worried her legs might give out beneath her, but she refused to ask for a break. Instead she focused on counting the number of stairs to the summit.
Veronyka passed under hanging vines and into the cover of twisting, gravity-defying trees, before the stair switched back and there was nothing but wide, open air between her and the ground below. During one of these open stretches, Veronyka chanced a look back down the mountainside. She felt incredibly small, the mountain stretching endlessly beneath her. Many of the peaks that surrounded the valley were lower than she was now, their jagged tops ringed with wisps of clouds. She couldn’t see any of the villages that lined the road, but for a moment she swore she could feel the distance between herself and where she’d started.
Between herself and Val.
The air became thin and sparse in her lungs, and she forced herself to look at the steps directly beneath her feet. What kind of would-be Rider got silly when it came to heights?
Two hundred and twenty-one steps later, gasping, Veronyka crested the top of the staircase. While Beryk and Elliot murmured about reporting to the commander, Veronyka took the opportunity to plunk herself on the ground and catch her breath.
They were on the edge of a gently rolling plain, enclosed by rocky spears of stone on all sides, making the plateau invisible to anyone below. It was like a little slice of soft Pyraean countryside, wedged into this hard, jagged landscape. Long grass swished in the breeze, and the sky above was vast and star strewn. At the far end of the field was a small stone village, tiered gardens of carefully tended crops butting up against the walls that enclosed it. Rising above the village was another set of walls, taller and thicker than the first, surrounding a fortified stronghold. The walls were dotted with flickering lanterns, casting the buildings and the people who walked among them into dancing shadows and silhouettes.
A magnificent temple rose behind the fortress walls, at least ten stories high and topped with a carved golden phoenix, wings spread as if about to take flight.
Veronyka remained on her hands and knees—it seemed fitting, to lie as supplicant to a sight such as this. All her life, the glory and power of the Phoenix Riders were a long-lost story, a whispered history. Now it was alive before her. She was here with her people at last, and she was ready.
Veronyka was led through the courtyard of the stronghold, past the stables, kitchens, and dining hall and around the towering temple. Behind it were a series of stone buildings, including smaller wooden structures like storage sheds.
At the farthest point in the yard, a wide set of stairs led to a carved arch. Veronyka couldn’t see anything through the doorway in the darkness, but she sensed the stir of magic beyond.
Phoenixes.
They must live and roost there, out of sight of the rest of the stronghold. Veronyka’s body crackled with a surge of warm, tingling energy, her exhaustion completely forgotten. The archway called to her, and she yearned to follow.
“This way,” said Beryk, steering her toward the largest of the stone buildings. It had the same hard gray exterior as the rest of the stronghold, nondescript and unadorned, but the inside was another matter entirely.
They were greeted by a servant and led through richly carpeted halls